


I Just Need to Believe (That We're Alive)

by angel_of_potatos



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV), Merlin (TV)
Genre: I don't think that the medici tag is right, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), M/M, No Beta, prob gonna have a bad posting schedule, reincarnated Arthur Pendragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_of_potatos/pseuds/angel_of_potatos
Summary: Merlin spends his days wondering the Earth, delighting in the little things; precious pots, vibrant flora, etc. One day he ends up strolling in the wrong patch of forest.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Hurts like a Fresh Wound

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic posted, ever. Please be nice and please give constructive criticism. If something is wrong or inaccurate, please let me know.

Merlin has a terrible habit of appearing in the right place at the worst times. Take now, for instance. Now, Merlin was enjoying a nice stroll through the woods, breathing in the fresh air, delighting at the forest and how its plants light up in his wake. Now...the sounds of shouts cut through the space Merlin has created.

At his unnatural age Merlin was adamant in his hatred of war. He found it bothersome, and therefore avoided it at all costs. Merlin walked a wide berth around the shouts, the life around him visibly glowing.

He slowed to a stop at a young sapling, butterflies floating nearby, the underbrush tickling his knees. Merlin raised a gentle hand, and almost caressed the leaves. Magic was flowing through the pads of his fingers, golden tendrils weaving themselves around the young tree. It perked up, then, stretching towards the bright sky. Merlin found himself smiling wide.

The battle cry startled Merlin, and he ducked as a sword sliced the air above his head. Merlin turned to a streak of blue quickly advancing on him once again, and he desperately backed up. Tripping on a misplaced root, he fell on his ass, and thrust his hands in front of him, pleading, “Mercy!”

The man stopped, sword raised as if to kill. “What?” he asked, confusion clear on his face. Merlin slowly lowered his hands, enough to peer out, his breath coming out in harsh pants. The man kept his sword up, wavering slightly. Merlin noticed, with a bit of help, the small blood splatter on the clothes. Blood dripped from the blade onto Merlin’s robes, though he dare not flinch yet. The man composed himself, hefting the sword threateningly, “What’s your name?!”

“Merlin!” he answered, jerking into a smaller ball, arms crossed in front of him, palms out. He reigned the impulses in, no need to destroy this life. He trembled with the effort.

The man lowered the sword, but did not sheathe it. He asked, “Why are you here?” and without time for Merlin to answer, asked “Who do you work for?”

“I-I was just strolling here!” Merlin stammered, uncurling his body, keeping his hands in front of him. “Honest! I live nearby!” He pleaded, staring into the brown eyes of the man. The man thought about Merlin’s answer, and Merlin took the opportunity to measure his would-be foe.

A light stubble and curled hair, and Merlin gasped sharply, an ache in his heart. The man’s honest features reminded him too much of Lancelot. Merlin blinked the tears away, hopeful the man didn’t notice.

“Brother!” a voice called, and a body came crashing through the trees. The man in blue turned his head, keeping his blade pointed towards Merlin. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, like a long forgotten dream. Though he was disappointed in himself for not recognizing, later. The new person laughs, short, and gestures to his presumed brother, the man in blue, saying with a smile, “Just couldn’t wait, could you!”

The brother comments offhanded, “Got distracted,” and turned back to Merlin, who was now sitting in a crouched position. The other man then faces Merlin, smiling fading. Oh, how Merlin missed those sharp, blue eyes.

“Who’s this?” He asked tersely. The brother answered before Merlin could, not that Merlin was able to anyway. His voice was frozen in his throat, eyes locked on the newcomer. Though, how new was he really, in Merlin’s world.

“Say’s his name’s Merlin, and that he lives nearby, and that he was out for a ‘stroll’ not too long ago.” The other man hummed, thoughtful, and stared at Merlin with an equal intensity. God, it doesn’t look like he’s aged a day. Merlin’s breath hitched.

The newcomer turns back to the man in blue and says firmly, “I’ve left father back at the wagon. There shouldn’t be any more, but you should make a decision quickly,” He ended the mini-speech with a significant look in Merlin’s direction. The man in blue nodded thoughtfully, then sheathed his sword after a moment’s consideration.

He stuck a hand out towards Merlin, and introduced himself, “My name’s Lorenzo.” Merlin took it hesitantly, then stood up carefully. Lorenzo stuck a thumb over his shoulder, “This here idiot is my brother, Giuliano.” Giuliano waved disjointedly, lopsided smile on his face, and Merlin found himself smiling back, in spite of himself. Lorenzo looked on in interest.

An awkward silence befell them, and it lasted a moment before Giuliano bust out, “Well, come _on_ , _Mer_ lin, what’s gonna happen?” If there was a second part to that sentence Merlin couldn’t hear, the blood pounding furiously in his ears. His breath came in short pants, and both brothers were visibly concerned.

They both took a step forward, sword-hands empty, but Merlin stumbled backwards, hands outstretched to stop them. “N-no, just-just stop,” Merlin moaned hoarsely. The men complied. Merlin, miraculously, did not fall to the ground, instead turned tail and ducked into the dense forest, foolishly hoping to outrun the memories. He did not hear footsteps behind him.


	2. Who's the Mystery?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized, according to canon, I spelled Giuliano wrong. I think fixed it, and I ain't happy 'bout it. 
> 
> Anyways! Do not expect a regular posting schedule, I can't follow that for shit. I'll do my best, and that's the best I can promise.
> 
> If there's any mistakes, please point them out. Please..

Merlin collapsed onto the ground, short breaths heaving his chest. He turned to sit, and leaned against the nearest tree, and paused. Merlin screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He sucked in a breath, then forced it out in a mockery of the exercises he was taught. He did it again, and again, trying to quiet his mind.

When he felt the throbbing of memories slow, and his chest no longer ached, Merlin let his eyes flutter open. Then gasped softly. Sunlight draped itself over the soft glade he found himself in. A cat lay a few paces ahead, stretched in the sun. Merlin could hear it purring, and couldn’t hold back the laughter bubbling in his chest. The cat, thankfully, didn’t startle at Merlin’s intrusion. The moss made for a great pillow, and the grass was soft enough to lay in. But Merlin couldn’t stay here, no, he had to head back to his cabin. He didn’t lie about that.

Merlin stumbled to his feet, hand against the tree to support himself. The sun had gone down a bit, the sky was painted in splashes of orange and red. Thankfully Merlin still had enough to amble home. 

As Merlin walked, confidant voices filled his head, blue eyes and warm gazes causing him to shiver. His ears swam as the ghosts of friends began talking to him, as though they both were still alive. The forest quickly grew dark. The air changed. Merlin hoped he could get home in time. He walked faster, the path bending to guide him home. 

Over the crest of the next hill, and Merlin began to jog when he saw the shoddy chimney. Rain began to fall, and the jog transitioned to a sprint. Yet a smile crossed Merlin’s face, and he tore open the door in time for thunder to sound. 

Merlin sagged against the now closed door, and huffed a tired laugh in the quiet of his cabin. The rain was coming down harder, and his Magic rejoiced in his body. It never failed to make Merlin feel restive and joyful. Merlin started for his small kitchen, intent on putting a kettle on, when something sounded at the door.

Unsure, Merlin halted, held his breath, and waited. Moments later, a small meow. Merlin abandoned the kettle, and marched over to the door. Yanking it open, he found the same cat from the mysterious glade, all mottled brown long fur and emerald eyes, looking very much like a drowned rat.

“You followed me home?” He croaked, not expecting an answer. Instead the cat bounded inside. Water dripped off the cat in a trail that led towards the living room. His magic pulsed out, and lights in the living room and kitchen flickered on. Merlin picked up the kettle, and tried to focus on only one problem at a time.

Kettle filled and heating on the stove-top, Merlin dug around his cabinets for his handcrafted tea bags. It gets boring out in the woods, and Merlin loved to experiment. Merlin picked up one, and the kettle screeched. He ignored the crash in the other room, and rooted around for a mug. A little bit of sugar and a dash of cream, Merlin hummed against the lip of the mug. He thought for a moment, then decided to find a small bowl. 

Bowl of cream and a mug of tea in hand is when Merlin finally entered the living room, albeit hesitantly. He found the cat vehemently licking itself upon the only couch Merlin owns. He spared a thought of pity, then set the bowl on the table in front of the couch. Merlin sipped his tea, the cat paused in its ministrations, tongue still out. It huffed, then stretched, then hopped onto the table, wasting no time in devouring the cream. Merlin smiled, amused. Then he noticed the broken vase. Disappointment pierced his chest, then suddenly the vase was floating back onto the table, once again whole. The cat didn’t look up.

Merlin drank his tea, and melted against the couch, and only hoped the memories would be gentle tonight.

* * *

Lorenzo and Giuliano worked silently to fix the carriage, setting it upright again and re-harnessing the runaway horses. Giuliano helped their father to his feet as Lorenzo inspected the carriage. Though it was for naught, because Piero pushed off Giuliano’s hands and waddled past Lorenzo, seating himself upon the cushions. Arrows still stuck out the side of the shell. In the fight, their own horses ran away, and the brothers had to steer the carriage themselves. Everyone else (only the driver, really) had run for their lives.

Thankfully the seat was big enough for the both of them as they plopped in it. Lorenzo handed the reins to Giuliano, and he huffs in lieu of the impending argument. Lorenzo just smiles like the hidden imp he is.

A few minutes pass when Lorenzo speaks up, a smile still twisting his face, “So...that guy back there.”

“Yes?” Giuliano drawls, almost dreading what his brother is about to say.

“You love the ladies, right?” Giuliano furrows his brows, and glances at Lorenzo. He didn’t pretend to understand how Lorenzo’s mind worked. He said as much, and Lorenzo barked out a laugh. Lorenzo shoved lightly at Giuliano’s shoulder, “Just humor me.”

Giuliano sighed. “Yes, brother-mine, I do,” he tightened his grip on the reins, the sky seemed to darken. He glances again at Lorenzo, then again at the pondering quirk of lips. That face always meant trouble, back in their childish days. “What are you planning?” he asks, suspicious.

The answer was quick, “Nothing!”, and there was a light note in his voice. Regardless, Giuliano let the subject drop for now. The rest of the trip was spent in peace, aside from their father’s not-so-quiet grumblings. The carriage caught in the various ruts on the dirt path, the trees in the forest served to be their only entertainment, because even the birds had gone quiet. 

Eventually they’d arrived, and the sky chose that moment to cry. The small caravan was greeted by the rest of their awaiting family, and everyone was quickly rushed up the steps into the mansion, servants with luggage not too far behind. The horses were taken away by stable hands.

Lucrezia took her husband's hands in hers, and they smiled at each other before Piero hobbled to his rooms. She then turned to her sons, smile stretching her face, “My boys!”

Lorenzo hugged her first, then Giuliano. Then, after a wistful gaze at the stairwell, led the brothers to the dining hall. Through the hallways, passing a number of servants who greeted the trio, they ended up before a set of doors. Even before Lucrezia opened them, they could smell the rich aroma of a wonderful supper. Chicken and beef based dishes greeted them, even the salad looked delightful.

They all sat and ate; Lucrezia at the head, the two boys on either side of her. Servants bustled in and out, carrying pitchers of water and wine, plates and utensils. The brothers looked at each other, when half the dinner was gone. They waited ‘til their mother swallowed her bite, before broaching the subject. Gingerly, they leaned on the table. Lucrezia had a question in her eyes.

“Mother…” Lorenzo began, before Giuliano butted in.

“We were attacked.” Lucrezia gasped, hand to her mouth, the other clutching her necklace, as she whipped towards the doors, as though searching for something. Lorenzo glared at Giuliano, who simply shrugged and looked only a little rueful. 

“No one was harmed,” Lorenzo soothed, still looking at Giuliano. Slowly, she settled back into her chair. She glanced between the brothers, assessing them for injury, eyes panicked. 

“Are you sure?” She questioned, still clutching at her cross. 

“Positive, mother,” Giuliano said, not unkindly, then nodded to his brother, “Lorenzo, here, managed to fend them off.” Lucrezia sighed, relief loosening the tension in her shoulders. She readjusted herself, hands now settled on the armrests of the chairs. 

“Anything else?” She said simply, calmly. Giuliano hid a smile at his mother’s bravado. Lorenzo noticed the smile, then turned toward their mother.

“We found someone in the woods, after the attack.” Lorenzo offered. Lucrezia looked at him.

“Were they involved?” 

“No, mother, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Said he lived near there, and that his name was Merlin.” Lorenzo finished, sparing a look in Giuliano’s direction. Lucrezia nodded, seeming satisfied. Then she excused herself from the table.

“I need to talk with your father. Goodnight, boys” She smiled at them, but it was tight. Lucrezia flew out of the room, straight as a mannequin, the picture of nobility. Lorenzo and Giuliano looked at each other, then sighed. They finished their dinner, quickly, silently, then rose from the table as one.

Giuliano started towards his chambers, and was surprised to see Lorenzo close on his heels. He kept walking, up the steps and through the maze of passageways. Giuliano tugged open the door and walked straight to the large table on the side of the room, intent on ignoring Lorenzo for as long as possible. He tugged off his sword belt and laid it on the table, then his overcoat. 

“Giuliano.” Lorenzo tried.

Giuliano walked towards the standing divider, nightclothes already there, and sorted himself to change.

“Giuliano!” Lorenzo called again sharply. Giuliano did not move from behind the divider when he answered.

“Yes Lorenzo?” he said dryly. Lorenzo crossed his hands behind his back. The outside lit up, then rumbled as the rain poured harder. Giuliano crossed the room, circling around to put the candles out. Lorenzo watched as he did so, with dwindling patience. Lorenzo snagged Giuliano’s arm as he passed, bringing a halt to his brother’s antics. For a moment they stared at the other. Then Giuliano jerked his arm away, and took a couple steps backwards, though he did not continue to put out the candles. 

So they stood in a half lit room, the muffled sounds of rain hard on stone walls. Lorenzo spoke first, “What’s your problem today?” 

“ _My_ problem?” Giuliano was offended, and shot back, “You’re the one that’s gone all soft!” Lorenzo’s face softened.

“You know what I mean,” Lorenzo prodded gently.

“Do I?” Giuliano snarked, but the words held no heat. Lorenzo stepped forward and clasped a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. 

“Get some sleep, brother, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Lorenzo turned on a silent heel, and strode from the room, weary from the day’s events. 

“Yeah,” Giuliano said after a moment’s pause, but by then Lorenzo was gone, “yeah, okay.”


	3. Memory Games

It hurt, when Merlin woke up, and he couldn’t breathe. His neck hurt and it was harder to breathe in and his chest was...vibrating. Vibrating? Merlin brought a hand up before his eyes slid open, feeling a fluffy lump there. Oh. It was the cat, the one that followed him home yesterday. Merlin sagged against the couch, relieved. 

Adrenaline, unfortunately, was now psyching him up. Merlin brought his hands up to cradle the cat and gently stood up. Fully upright, the cat then startled awake and squirmed onto Merlin’s shoulders, where it gave a forceful sniff. Then it jumped down as Merlin began to walk around the table, intent on waking up with something.

Merlin walked stiffly, thankful the cat was elsewhere exploring. His feet barely made a sound as he shuffled around the corner into the kitchen. His clothes felt itchy when he stretched, swinging his arms up high and rising to the tips of his toes. He planned to change after breakfast. 

Merlin glanced around the poorly kitchen, the wash basin, the rickety tables, the cupboard. It almost reminded him of Gaius’s chambers. Merlin winced, shoving the memory away, and purposely walked to the corked bottle on one of the tables to his right. He opened it and drank it, in one fell swoop. 

When he ran out of breath he let it go, and let it fall to the table with a thud, hand still on the bottle. Merlin breathed through the taste of warmed cider. It tasted disgusting, and Merlin grimaced at the aftertaste. It needed to be chilled.

A meow jerked him from his thoughts, and Merlin turned his head to see the brown cat staring intently up at him. Merlin stared back. The cat sighed, then turned around and wandered off back to, presumably, the living room. Merlin resolved to ignore him.

Merlin caved.

He looked into the pantry, and reached for the perpetually chilled cream, and walked into the living room. Merlin quickly refilled the bowl he left on the table with a huff, not daring to look at the cat’s piercing stare. Merlin left the jug on the table before he worked on tugging off his clothes on his way to his room. As such, the rough cloth got caught on his face and elbows, and Merlin tripped. 

He landed on the hard ground with a grunt, on the hard wood in the doorway to his bedroom. Merlin lay there, a moment of defeat passing through his mind. He heard the cat purring, then suddenly, before he could move the shirt or sit up, it jumped on his back. It cried victoriously. Merlin hated it. 

He shimmied the shirt over his face, past the danger of his hands, before he dared to remove the cat. Merlin twisted on the floor until it jumped off. He winced at the pain in his side, and fully entered the room. 

Merlin yanked at his belt as he wandered over to his meager closet. Merlin peered at his clothes, then shoved his pants down. Merlin shivered, then selected his cleanest trousers and shirts. He pulled his clothes on, fervent to stay upright. 

Pants on, belt on. Done. Dark undershirt, then blue overshirt, Merlin felt refreshed. Well, as refreshed as one can be without a bath anyways. He strode from his room with a pep in his step, and came up behind the couch. To his right was his stuffed bookcase, to his left the door. Merlin’s gaze swept over the shelves, bending under the weight of the numerous books. He remembers the moments he read each of them. Merlin should probably get more.

Merlin didn’t see the cat, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He walked around the couch in order to snatch the jug of cream off of the table, and padded into the kitchen to return it to the pantry. He placed the jug next to the basket of bread, which has exactly one loaf in it. Come to think of it, his jars of spices are almost empty. Merlin hummed, thoughtful.

He closed the pantry’s doors, then immediately stepped over to the countertops. His hands brushed over items strewn about, last week’s news and his latest research. There, in the furthest corner from the window, was his coin pouch. It was half empty.

As Merlin grasped it, he hid it in a pocket in his trousers, and began to make a mental grocery list. Fresh loaves, spices and herbs, fresh produce, and a job. Merlin hooked the burlap sack by the front door over his shoulder, and grasped at the dagger strapped to his inner shirt. He disliked tangible weapons, but he needed them in order to stay out of public speculation. Now prepared, Merlin began a brisk pace into the nearest town. 

Minutes into his walk, he wasn’t sure why he was surprised to hear a rustle behind him. A small sound was his only warning before the cat leapt gracefully onto his shoulders. Merlin didn’t slow as the cat dug its claws into Merlin’s right bicep, and laid its body over his neck. It settled down, seemingly calm and unrepentant. The cat’s tail swishes in the cool breeze of Merlin walk.

Merlin scoffed, but didn't dislodge the cat, “You’re just as bad as Kilgharrah.” A smile tugged on his lips. The cat meowed, as if to confirm. Merlin chuckled. The dew drops lit the morning on fire as they passed. The forest seemed rejuvenated from the storm last night, and Merlin’s magic seemed to sing under his skin. 

The invisible path wound clearly through the dense forest. The cat remained lying across Merlin’s shoulders, the picture of faux non-caring. It was peaceful. Only the sounds of rustling underbrush broke the pattern of Merlin’s footfalls. A squirrel jumped the branches a couple lengths above them, a deer grazed nearby. 

Soon the forest backdrop gave way to a paved road, which led to the distant stony walls of the city. Merlin never bothered to learn its name. It’d be gone in a hundred years or so anyways, was his reasoning. The cat stayed put, claws firmly in the roughspun cloth of his shirts. 

The sky was cloudy, the dark wisps coated generously on bright blue. Merlin admired it as he walked beside the road. The sun was nowhere to be seen, yet it was light out. Merlin supposed he has a painter’s heart, to be seeing the world in this lens. Or maybe a poet.

“Y’know,” Merlin pondered to the cat, “I should call you Kilgharrah.” The cat didn’t outwardly respond. “You both have the same personalities.” The cat only flicked its tail. Merlin grinned, and thought about it some more.

Merlin was yanked out of his musings when he reached the drawn portcullis. The guards, which had been previously lazing about, stood at attention when he drew near. Merlin nodded at them as he passed. 

Passed the gates, Merlin found himself swept up in the flow of the populace. His cat held on tightly, tail tucked into Merlin’s collar. At the sight of the marketplace the waves slowed a bit, and Merlin stepped away towards the first stall. They were selling charms.

Merlin gave it a cursory glance, and paused when he noticed a similar looking band. His heart gave solid _thud_ , and Kilgharrah began to purr, if only to soothe his panic. The orange embedded jewel was unnaturally bright. Merlin forced a smile on his face, and asked if he could purchase it. The tender nodded enthusiastically, grinned a toothy smile, and shoved it in Merlin’s hand when he fished out the money.

Merlin stepped away from the stall, and shoved it in the bottom of his bag without a second glance. The next stalls, thankfully, were relatively normal. One sold herbs, the other bread. There was a cloth stall, a jewelry stall, fresh produce from the fields coupled with fish and meats. Merlin browsed through all the stalls; he filled a small bag with at least three different spices, and haggled for ten loaves. Merlin, on an impulse, purchased a small bolt of red cloth and a familiar ring. 

Merlin’s hand still in his coin pouch, he wasn’t paying attention. In the crowded marketplace, Kilgharrah held on tight. In his regular bag he was just about to place the slabs of wrapped meat and produce when he bumped into someone behind him. Before Merlin could stumble out an apology a hand clasped around his arm, nearly knocking his cat off. The hand felt like an iron brace as it yanked Merlin aside, away from the crowd.

The faceless stranger paid no heed to Kilgharrah’s spitting. Naught a moment passed before Merlin was roughly shoved in an empty alley, and his back was shoved onto the cold stone of the walls. Merlin’s magic pulsed against his fingertips. The cat leapt from Merlin’s shoulders to avoid being crushed from the force of the shove.

Merlin inhaled sharply as he gazed upon the looming stranger...wait.

“Lorenzo?!” 

* * *

Lorenzo woke that morning with only one goal in mind: resolve his brother’s problem so they could continue to work seamlessly together. Step 1? Find the source. Turns out he didn’t have to look far, seeing as a trip to the markets was all he needed to do. 

It was too easy, really. The pitiful idiot was wearing bright clothing, and not to mention the furball lounging on his shoulders. Lorenzo would laugh, except he had a mission to complete. 

Right now he was distracted, so Lorenzo took this moment to strike. He stalked up to Merlin, and without a word of greeting began to drag him somewhere quiet. Merlin struggled, though barely, and was not able to dislodge Lorenzo’s hand. The damned cat hasn’t left yet, either. 

As soon as they were away from the public’s eye, Lorenzo shoved the idiot towards the wall and crowded close. He ignored Merlin’s shout of surprise, and spared half a thought towards the fleeing furball. Merlin began to draw back, face pinched with nerves. Lorenzo had to settle this quick. 

“I’m gonna be frank with you, Merlin,” he began, whispering furiously; this wasn’t information he wanted spread to any gossiping passerby, “Something’s been happening to my brother, and I suspect that it may have something to do with you.”

Merlin shifted his weight, inhaling sharply, “What d-what do you mean-...I-... y-your brother?” he stammered, voice high and breathy. He kept trying to bring his arms up. Lorenzo kept his hands fisted in Merlin’s tunic as he struggled. 

“I mean,” Lorenzo growled, then a thought struck him. Lorenzo straightened, and brushed off Merlin’s dusty shirt. Lorenzo breathed, then smiled wide. Merlin remained cowed and silent against the wall. Lorenzo asked instead, “Do you prefer to bed with women, Merlin, or men.” Merlin gaped at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Merlin-”

“Both!” Merlin shouted, startling them both. A breeze swept through the alley, and Merlin shivered, “Well-, I mean, I prefer men...but-but I’m not picky!”

Lorenzo’s face twitched in barely held amusement. He swallowed, then nodded. It was silent for a moment. Merlin readjusted the bag on his shoulder, and bit his cheek. 

“If that is all, Lorenzo,” Merlin drawled, drawing his attention back, “I really need to get home,” Merlin patted the rucksack as if it explained everything. Lorenzo was silent a moment, thinking, and Merlin took the opportunity to duck out of the alley. 

Frustration burns in Lorenzo’s veins. He exhaled, heavily, then raced after Merlin, calling, “Wait! Merlin!” Merlin did not wait, nor did he slow down. The darn cat jumped gracefully back onto Merlin’s shoulders. It didn’t even appear to hinder Merlin.

Finally Lorenzo caught up to Merlin, just before he entered the flow of the crowd. Lorenzo laid a firm hand on Merlin’s arm, stopping him. Merlin dipped his head, then slowly turned to face him. The twin glares Lorenzo received did not deter him. 

“Allow me to escort you,” Lorenzo declared theatrically. Merlin just looked dubious.

“I-uh...I don’t think-”

“Perfect! It’s settled!” Merlin began to back up, but was too slow. Lorenzo ushered Merlin through the market and past the gates, nodding at the slouching guards on the way. Now on the road, Lorenzo stayed on Merlin’s right shoulder. The cat looked entranced by its perch’s curls. 

A few minutes down the path Merlin breaches the forest line. Lorenzo follows, a niggling in the back of his mind. Merlin walks with purpose, weaving through the woodland like it was the back of his hand. Merlin looked up, not pausing in his steps; the previously hidden sun shining beams through the canopy. Lorenzo couldn’t help but think just how at home Merlin appeared. It throws doubt on the completion of his plan, but Lorenzo did not consider himself a quitter.

The next moments were spent in a tense silence. Lorenzo followed the path Merlin took. Several times a stray branch thwacked Lorenzo’s arm, meanwhile Merlin’s hands clenched and twitched at his sides. Merlin didn’t appear affected by the flora.

Something catches his eye, breaking him out of his reverie. Smoke. It was smoke, puffing from a chimney. There, over the crest of the hill, was a small wooden structure. A cabin in the middle of the forest. Lorenzo huffed a laugh, smiling. Merlin leveled a dry stare at him, only turning his head. Lorenzo stopped.

When Merlin approached the door, Lorenzo paused a few paces behind, trying to give Merlin the illusion of privacy. It seemed to work, as Merlin relaxed a smidge. The cat waved its tail through the air lazily. 

Merlin carefully pushed open his door, and stepped inside. Lorenzo followed with that same amount of caution. Merlin immediately flew to his pantry to unload his bag. As Lorenzo shut the door, he noticed a jug of something on the lone table. Merlin pulled meats and herbs from his bag, and placed them inside the pantry. The cat was nowhere in sight. 

Lorenzo glanced around the small cabin; he could see a living area and a hallway to another room, not to mention the kitchen Merlin was currently in. The silence was starting to unnerve him.

“So Merlin, uh...your mother must’ve really liked birds then, huh?” Merlin froze. He put down whatever was in his hand, and turned to glare at Lorenzo. A chill ran down his spine, but Lorenzo didn’t know why he felt this fear.

Merlin began to speak, strangely calm for the situation, “Lorenzo, I am going to give one chance to state exactly why you’re here, and what your intentions are. After that, you’re gone.” Lorenzo swallowed hard, and willed his face impassive.

“My brother and I had a conversation this morning,” Lorenzo began, feeling like he’s about to wither under the strength of Merlin’s gaze. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, “and he's confessed to me that he has been plagued with thoughts of you.”

Merlin didn’t seem impressed, “And?”

Lorenzo chortled, “Well, Merlin, he told me he’s dreaming of you,” Merlin harrumphed, then made to push past Lorenzo into the living area. Lorenzo grabbed a hold of his arm, and begged him to listen, “Merlin, they’re also nightmares,” at Merlin’s disinterest, he added, “Of you, of all these people he’s claimed he never met.” 

Lorenzo didn’t like the fright in Merlin’s eyes when he next turned, but it was cause enough to let him go. Merlin held a small jug in his hand, and began to pour its contents into a small bowl on the table. The cat looked pleased. Merlin did not. 

“Leave,” Merlin commanded, voice hard, back facing him.

Lorenzo left.


	4. Nightmare

_ The fresh spring air felt cool on his sweating skin. A smile stretched wide across his face. It was the day of the melee, and by god was he excited. Merlin was somewhere behind him, bustling in the red and gold tent, fussing with his armor. He was proud of Merlin, but couldn’t show it, otherwise Merlin would become extremely concerned, calling in Gaius to inspect him. _

_ In the ring, hard sand beneath his feet, confidence coursed through his veins, he swung. He ducked, he parried, and his blade cut down every opponent. The sun was beating them down hard, but the air was freezing. Blinded, he shivered, and narrowly missed a swipe at his gut. He stumbled back, tripping over a root. _

_ It’s dark. The skylight was sparse when it reached the ground. He didn’t have time to feel confused, because a growling shook the trees. He whirled around, fear closing his throat. He was unprotected, no sword on his belt, no armor to cover his chest.  _

_ The mysterious creature stomped forward, he believed. The forest quaked, more and more, greater with each pounding. Then, it was silent. No bird sang, no tree rustled. He turned around, and around, gaze darting past the thick line of leaves. There. There it was. _

_ A frightening pair of unnatural eyes stared at him. The eyes were large, moving ever so much closer. Then, another roar had them both looking up. An abrupt brightness appeared, a sweltering heat threatening to melt his skin flashed in front of him, and a pitiful yelp signaled the other creature’s retreat. He blinked. _

_ A familiar mop of curls greeted him when he opened his eyes again. The wide smile and shining blue eyes tore at his heart. He had a mind to apologize to Guinevere later as he rose from bed and bid his manservant a good morning, and tucked into breakfast. _

Giuliano woke with a start, but did not yell like in the passing stories he’s heard. He scrambled off the bed to his desk, to a secret journal his mother gifted him. He scratched down the fading details of the dream, the bright sun, the terrible creatures, the beautiful man.

The morning sun was barely peeking through the drawn shades, and it felt like a chisel was being driven into his brain. He rubbed at his eyes, and sighed deeply. It was all because of that stranger. The one in the woods, two days ago, who looked suspiciously like the man in his dreams. The thoughts made the pounding worse, so Giuliano abandoned the thought. 

He doesn’t know how long he sat there, spacing out. A harsh knocking startled him to attention, and Giuliano’s voice cracked as he called, “Enter!”

Lorenzo appeared behind the door, and Giuliano didn’t have the energy to sigh. Lorenzo walked around the table, and yanked the curtains back a short way. Giuliano flinched, wincing at the sudden onslaught of pain. His elder brother pulled up a chair. When Giuliano opened his eyes again, it was to Lorenzo’s concern. 

“Another nightmare?”

Giuliano opened his mouth for a mindless barb, but shut it again at his brother’s glare. He nodded instead. Lorenzo sighed, looking down. Giuliano squinted at his brother, the light now shining much more brightly. 

“Maybe…” Lorenzo began to ponder.

“Yes, what brilliant idea will the heir think up now?” Giuliano snapped, sardonic. The ache in his head pulsing greater, and Giuliano covered his eyes with a groan. Lorenzo’s brows furrowed, concerned.

Giuliano rushed to assure him, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He wiped at his face one last time, then folded his arms in his lap tightly. Lorenzo ducked his head, and Giuliano felt almost apologetic. 

Lorenzo spoke before he did, “I have a bad idea,”

“Oh, please, do tell me more.” Giuliano tried to raise a brow without pain, but it didn’t go very far. So it just waggled there a moment. Lorenzo laughed, and Giuliano found himself smiling along. They sat a moment, the air joyful. Then, when they were wiping tears from their eyes, Lorenzo stood up.

“Get dressed,” he cajoled Giuliano. “Meet me for breakfast, then we’re going to take a trip.” 

“Why?” Giuliano whined, petulant, though a smile broke the effect. Lorenzo cuffed him on the head, chuckling alongside. 

“Do it, you child,” Lorenzo paused in the doorjamb, then added, “You won’t be disappointed.” 

***

Giuliano stumbled down the steps, and set towards the dining hall with a hitch in his step. As much as he trusts his brother, Giuliano is also cautious when it comes to Lorenzo. The raised voices of an argument spill beyond the closed door of his destination. When Giuliano went to open it, the door slammed open and his father hobbled out, angry, his mother close on his heels, pleading about something or other.

Giuliano slipped inside the dining hall, and shut the poor door softly behind him. He and Lorenzo made eye contact, then Lorenzo looked down. Giuliano stepped further inside, and began to plate his morning meal. He can wait for Lorenzo to collect his thoughts. 

Minutes pass, and Giuliano is sitting, polishing off the last of his sausages. Lorenzo is gazing intently at him. Giuliano swallows, then returns the gaze.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Lorenzo decides. The intonation set Giuliano on edge, and he sat forward in his seat, pushing his empty plate away.

Giuliano played along, “I am.”

Lorenzo is silent again. Giuliano needed to push, he figured, if he wanted answers. 

“What were mother and father fighting about?” Giuliano asked pointedly.

“I brought up the topic of a priori to discuss what had happened on the trip home.” 

Giuliano hummed.

“Father disagreed, obviously, and mother couldn’t comfort him.” Lorenzo shifted, still not looking at Giuliano, “You saw the aftermath.”

Giuliano hummed again.

“The priori is later, which gives me time to show you what I’ve been planning.” Lorenzo smirked, finally looking at Giuliano, who nodded and hummed, then stopped as he processed what his brother just said.

“What!?” Giuliano nearly screeched. Lorenzo looked greatly amused, and moved to exit the room.

When he got close, he clasped a hand on Giuliano’s shoulder, “You won’t be disappointed.”

In the silence of the dining hall, Giuliano rubbed at his face, muttering, “Oh my god, he was serious.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Tell me again why we couldn’t take horses?” Giuliano was dragging his feet. Minutes after leaving the confines of the city, and they have yet to arrive at wherever Lorenzo was leading him to. 

“Patience, dear brother,” Lorenzo called back without turning his head. Giuliano huffed, his body sagging, arm resting on his sword hilt. It was a mistake to wear dark clothing, and Giuliano almost sobbed in relief when Lorenzo turned into the forest. He settled for another huff.

“So, where we goin’ anyway?” Giuliano asked, after swearing he'd seen that same tree already moments into the forest. 

“It’s a surprise” Lorenzo teased, sing-song. 

All complaints by Giuliano fell on Lorenzo’s deaf ears, and after seeing the same tree for the fourth time, Giuliano opened his mouth to complain. But it caught in his throat when Lorenzo fell with a thud. 

Chuckled bubbled out of Giuliano, turning into a belly-laugh when Lorenzo stumbled theatrically to his feet. Lorenzo rubbed at his face, with a proclamation of, “Ouch!”

Something wasn’t right

Giuliano continued to laugh, but it quickly turned forced, “Alright there, Lorenzo?”

His brother sniped back, “Absolutely.” 

Giuliano, cautiously, walked to Lorenzo, who had shook himself out again. They nodded at each other, then began to walk again. Giuliano stepped but five paces before he realized Lorenzo wasn’t beside him.

He turned around slowly, and was perplexed at the sight he saw. There, stood Lorenzo, hand up, as though waving. Lorenzo was staring at his own hand curiously. Giuliano walked closer, and was shocked, again.

Around Lorenzo’s floating hand was a slight shimmer of gold. 

Giuliano didn’t believe it, “C’mon, Lorenzo, let’s-"

“This ain’t a joke.” Lorenzo was completely serious. He took his hand back, and while Giuliano was watching, pressed it once again against the invisible wall. Harder, more gold shimmered around his hand. It disappeared, when Lorenzo removed his hand.

“What the f-”

“Hey.” The brother’s whipped around, swords out of their sheathes. The familiar newcomer glared at Lorenzo, “I thought you were staying away?”

“Apologies, Merlin,” Lorenzo sheathed his sword, a tentative smile on his face. Giuliano was confused but followed suit, nonetheless. Merlin didn’t move from his spot, leaning on the tree, hands shoved in pockets. 

“Merlin,” Lorenzo said, and gestured to Giuliano, “This is my brother-”

“Giuliano, I know,” Merlin interrupted, hard gaze sliding from brother to brother. The noon sun painted spots of light across his figure, it highlighted his cheekbones, Giuliano thought. 

For a moment they stared at one another. Lorenzo cleared his throat, starting them both. “So, uh, you gonna do something about this?” he asked, nonchalant, hand again pressed on the invisible barrier.

Merlin visibly sucked in a breath, and froze. He glanced at Giuliano, bringing his hands up, gesticulating wildly, “That wasn’t- that  _ wasn’t me.  _ I swear-I had nothing-” Merlin tried to back up, glancing at Giuliano, and his breath was coming in too quick. 

Both brothers rushed forward, and Giuliano grabbed at Merlin’s hand to bring them to his own chest, pressing them on his heart. Lorenzo came up behind Merlin, ready to catch him, should he fall. 

“-m so-sorry-”

“ _ Breathe _ Merlin, c’mon, breathe.”

Merlin grasped at Giuliano’s tunic, bunching the fabric. He lost his legs, and Lorenzo gently guided him to the ground. Giuliano kept instructing Merlin, for the little good it was doing.

“Listen to my heart, Merlin, slowly breathe in, please Merlin,” They could see the ragged rise of his chest, in and out, slower.

“I didn’ mean to, ‘m sorry,” His eyes were fluttering, and his breathe slow more.

“Hush Merlin, it’s alright,” he cradled Merlin closer, Lorenzo stayed where he was.

_ “Forgive me, Arthur”  _

Merlin passed out, gently resting now in Giuliano’s lap, the brother’s exchanging confused looks.

_ What’s going on? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes/plot holes/issues with continuity please point them out.


	5. The Act of Knowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, school and life is a pain in the sphincter. 
> 
> I am working fervently on the next chapter, and I am very excited to see where my mind takes me. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this, regardless.
> 
> Not beta read, any mistakes feel free to point them out.

“Help me,” Lorenzo ordered, pushing at Merlin. Giuliano, with the help of his brother, slung Merlin over his shoulder. For a large man, he sure was light. Lorenzo hefted himself to lead, but ran into the barrier again. He sighed, face pensive. 

“You are going to have to bring him back to his cabin yourself.” He said decisively.

Giuliano panicked, but composed himself, if only for the sake of the man in his arms, and exclaimed, “Where am I to go? I don’t know where he lives!” 

Lorenzo didn’t look concerned, even as he glanced at the sun’s position. He pointed to the space behind Giuliano, saying, “It’s somewhere in that direction, a small cabin.”

Giuliano went to protest, but Lorenzo interrupted him, a peculiar spark in his eye, “Take care of him, Giuliano.” And then he was gone, back to Florence to continue whatever the Medici heir gets up to in his free time. 

With nothing else left to do, Giuliano turned in the indicated direction, feeling wrong-footed. He walks a straight path, hardly straining under the dead weight. He weaves fast through the trees, like they were guiding him. A cool breeze whispered through the branches.

Giuliano eventually comes upon the cabin, its chimney sticking out like a sore thumb over the green crest of the hill. This must be it. Giuliano pauses at the crest to readjust Merlin, then continues down. His heart pounds, though he doesn’t know why. He’d talk to Merlin, but what would he say to an unconscious stranger?

Giuliano makes it to the front door, apprehension pausing him. Then kicks it open anyway. Why’s he feeling this way? There’s no logical reason, no possible conclusion. It shouldn’t matter, therefore it doesn’t.

He walks right, and deposits Merlin on the ragged cushions. Giuliano notices a hallway behind the sofa, but dismisses it for later. Now is the time to make sure Merlin is okay. Giuliano turns around, and rounds the corner to a small kitchen, similar to that of the kitchens where he lives.

Giuliano then pauses. A feeling of panic lodges itself in his throat as his gaze swept over the cluttered counter-tops and tables. Giuliano swallows thickly, and buries the feeling. Kicking himself into action, Giuliano rifles through the mess, trying to find something that may resemble...anything. Anything that may look like what his mother used to give him.

Nothing found on the counter-tops, Giuliano feels defeated already. He heaves a sigh, and turns around. Then, his eyes catch on a lone jug sitting on the table across the room. Of course, there’s parchments strewn around it, but Giuliano paid them no mind.

Slowly, he walks the few steps to the table, and reaches a tentative hand out. There’s no handle, so he grasps the neck and simply lifts it. The jug is surprisingly light. Giuliano swirls it, only to find very little liquid sloshing inside. He makes to uncork it, but a sound alerts him to his own snooping. 

He whirls around, heart pounding, shame heating his cheeks, but Merlin is not there. Hand still on the jug, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. A quick glance around the room, and Giuliano deems it safe enough to continue. 

He props the bottle on the table, and tears the cork off. It lets go with a small ‘pop’. Giuliano brings the lip of the jug close, and breathes in deeply. The smell surprised him. If he had to guess, it was-

“Ahem.” The clearing of a throat, more to announce a presence than anything, startled him. He dropped the jug and whirled to face the voice. He didn’t hear it land.

“Ah, Merlin!” Giuliano said, all fake cheer, smile wide. Merlin was leaning against the frame rounding the corner, and looking quite bored. Merlin’s hands were stuffed in his trousers, his shirt rumpled from the unexpected nap. The raven’s nest on his head was curled into snarls. His blue eyes stared at Giuliano, unreadable. Giuliano was perplexed at the enigma before him.

Merlin made a show of peering around Giuliano, never removing his hands from their pockets,”Whatcha got there?” His accent was heavy, and it took Giuliano a moment to decipher what he had said.

“Oh it’s, uh...it’s...nothing! It’s nothing at all, nothing you need to worry about. Nope.” Giuliano cracked under the weight of Merlin’s stare. He quickly glanced back at the table, saw the corked jug standing upright, and turned to face Merlin with a charming, most certainly disarming smile. Giuliano clenched his hands, which felt suspiciously empty.

“So you weren’t spying on all of my stuff, then?” Giuliano faltered, and opened his mouth for a rebuttal, though Merlin barreled on, “Do you enjoy alcohol, Ar-Giuliano?” Merlin bit his lip, seemingly embarrassed. Giuliano was man enough to admit it was a little distracting.

For a moment they stood, and simply stared at the other. Blue looked at blue, and they were lost in pondering their thoughts. Tension sung about the room, then…

A loud meow broke them from the moment. Merlin cursed, and Giuliano cleared his throat. A brown cat slinked into the room, a smug air about it. It continued on past Merlin, and wound around Giuliano, to hop onto the table. It sniffed at the upright jug, and seemed to give Merlin a disdainful look. Merlin only shrugged.

Giuliano watched on curiously. In the next moment, though, the cat rounded on him, and so did Merlin. They appeared to have a silent conversation, that only they were privy to. Outside, gust slammed into the meager windows, and Giuliano jumped at the first bang.

Giuliano began to slowly walk in the direction of the door, past Merlin, saying, “I think I...should go probably.” He backed out the door, “It’s getting late, it was great seeing you Merlin,” And it was, seeing the lively look on Merlin’s pale face eased something in him. Merlin was staring at Giuliano, a confused frown pinching his brows. The cat kept staring at Merlin.

One foot out the door and a thought struck him, so he turned right back around. Merlin had moved, and was now straightening the sheets on the table. The cat was nowhere to be found, as was the jug. 

Giuliano inhaled sharply, a single thought plaguing his mind, “Hey Merlin?” The man whirled around, papers scattering again, and Merlin appeared to mask panic. 

“Ye-yes, uh-Giuliano?”

“Who’s Arthur?”

* * *

The question was innocent. But the man asking the question wasn’t. After trying so hard to conceal his past, he blew his chances of normal after a damn panic attack. Merlin cursed in his head, but the look-alike was still waiting for an answer.  _ Just like him, to be curious about the wrong thing _ . But was it the wrong thing?

“No one,” Merlin’s voice cracked, and he avoided the man’s gaze. He could feel it burning a hole in his skull, “He was just a-uh, uh-frie-friend of mine. Yep, before I moved here, he and I were…” Merlin grew quiet, beginning to lose himself in the memories. Faintly, he could hear the beginnings of a wind-storm, “He and I were very good friends.”

Merlin looked up, that penetrative gaze that could make a weak man buckle under its weight was directly pointed at his own. The copy then nodded, satisfied with the story. It left for good, shutting the door firm against its jamb.

Moments had passed, and Merlin had yet to move. He was warring with himself, debating over the encounter. Debating what, even he didn’t know. Merlin felt nothing on the inside. He shuffled over to his sofa, Kilgharrah hopping into his lap when he sat down. The jug flew to his hand, and Merlin contented himself to listen to the harsh gales in the evening sky.


	6. "Historia Regum Britanniae" by Geoffrey of Monmouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not kidding, I found a book by Geoffrey of Monmouth, as per the title name. Super long, it reads out the history of the kings of Britain, including Arthur and Merlin. I wasn't able to read all of it on google, but enough to confirm via previews.
> 
> I had a completely different scene planned, and this certainly wasn't it.

A harsh knocking had Merlin bolting upright.  _ When did he fall asleep? _ Kilgharrah yowled, and Merlin realized the hand he thrust in front of him, meant to spellcast, was instead holding the jug. He brought it to his lips, but no drop fell from it. 

The rapid knocking jerked Merlin from his thinking, and let go of the empty cider jug in favor of answering the door. He tugged it open just as the knocking sounded again, and ducked at the incoming fist. When he popped back up again, the young woman, a servant by clothing, had recoiled, intense guilt stamped across her face. Merlin withheld the eyeroll.

Merlin let a few moments pass, until it became clear the servant wasn’t going to talk. Swallowing his irritation, he asked sweetly, “What do you want?”

The servant jumped, clearly startled. She stammered out, “Your pre-presence is reques-is requested by the Medici family!” The servant seemed proud of the name she pulled, what with her broad smile. Merlin has yet to hear of the Medici’s, surprisingly.

“Okay, and?...”

“What?” The servant gaped, before recovering and closing her mouth. In a modicum of decency, she brushed off her apron

“They can expect me all they want, but where I am to actually go?” Merlin did not withhold the eyeroll, not mentioning he know very little of who she was talking about.

“Oh!” The servant gasped, then quieter, “well, I presume they mean to meet with-uh, with you in the courtyard of their house?” Merlin pretended to think about this a moment, which brought him to his next question.

“And-uh, If you don’t mind my asking, where is their house?,” The servant, who had previously turned to leave, now faced him like he grew two heads. Merlin was used to the feeling, but grew to feel disconcerted as the servant’s frozen smile turned blinding.

“I’ll show you!” She turned around, gesturing for him to follow, “It’s-it’s this way!”

_ That’s not an answer,  _ Merlin thought. He called to her, who was already at the bottom of the hill, several paces out, “Hold a moment! Lemme gather my things!”

She did not, in fact, stop, Merlin had realized when he popped back out of his cabin, backpack of important spell books and herbs now ready. Instead she walked a couple more paces before realizing Merlin had yet to follow. She looked annoyed at him, hands on cocked hips. A pout played on her lips. Merlin looked around for Kilgharrah, but the cat was nowhere in sight.

Merlin slowed his gait imperceptibly, just to be petty. The servant noticed, and gave up the pout for angrily stomping until he reached her. Merlin thought it was funny, and the smile gave it away. The servant resolutely did not look at him the rest of the trip.

The sun was bright, but the air was cold. Merlin was glad he changed into his crimson doublet. It was padded, so it was thicker to protect against mild elements. Merlin even charmed it. A jacket was stuffed into the bag slung across his back, just in case. The servant was not so lucky.

Merlin knew where they were. They were halfway between his cabin and the nearest road, walking through the thin forestry. Between the chilled air and the not-so-bright sunlight, she kept shivering once every so often. Merlin felt bad for her, but only a little.

A wall of silence between them, not a word was spoken all the way to the road. Merlin then realized they were heading into the city he never learned the name of.  _ Just who were the Medici’s? _

The silence continued up through the gates, passed the marketplace, and down a handful of alleyways before the servant slowed to a stop in front of a grand house.  _ More like a mansion _ , Merlin mused with wonder. 

The servant bowed, the action laced with sarcasm, and bid her own leave. As Merlin was marveling at the beautiful architecture, and bemoaning the lack of his notebook, someone else sauntered up.

“Merlin!” They cried, and he turned to face the caller.

“Lorenzo?” He smiled, and Lorenzo smiled back as they embraced one another tightly. The hug was short and they pulled apart a moment later, but Lorenzo launched into the next question without pause.

“How are you, Merlin?” He opened his mouth to answer, “Let me tell you, I’m glad you answered the summons.”  _ Excuse me _ .

“Lor-Lorenzo, I’m doing well, thank you.” Merlin began, smile frozen. The weight of a stare fell upon his back, and he resisted the urge to turn. He avoided the ‘summons’ remark, and continued his answer, “I apologize to you for the other day, for how I acted, and I thank you for helping me.”

Lorenzo nodded, still smiling. It was almost distracting, “I accept your apology, Merlin. The reason I called you was because I have something to show you. I hope you enjoy it,”

Lorenzo began to walk in the direction of the grand doors, and Merlin didn’t want to think his newly found suspicions were true. Merlin followed, hand firmly on the satchel. A meow warned him of the cat, before it jumped on his shoulders. Brown fur smacked him in the face, and he was blinded for a moment.

“Kilgharrah!? There you are!” Kilgharrah settled on his shoulders, purring, and Lorenzo looked on fondly. He waited until Merlin caught up before walking again.

“The reason my brother isn’t here,” Lorenzo began, “Is because he’s an emotionally constipated idiot.” Merlin chortled, snorting. The dim hallways felt warmed, but something didn’t feel right. The warmth came from family, and the warmth was fading.

Lorenzo was leading him through the many passageways, a left turn, then a right. Merlin made a mental map of the turns they took, right up until they reached a set of grand oak doors. The deadened wood felt hollow, for all their majesty. Lorenzo shared a conspiratorial grin as he lay his hands on the doorknobs, one Merlin found he could not echo.

Lorenzo then heaved the doors open, what laid before Merlin floored him. Grand shelves lined the huge room, laden with dusty tomes. A window stretched from floor to ceiling on the far wall, caressed by royal blue curtains. Chairs dotted the space he could see, and end-tables accompanied some of them. 

Merlin knew he was making a fool of himself. His jaw was dropped, and he was frozen in awe. Kilgharrah took one look, then went back to snoozing on his shoulders with a hefty sigh. 

He heard a laugh next to him, and he stepped forward, towards the nearest shelf. He ran a soft finger over the spines, noting the dust on the bowing shelves. He stopped at the end of the row, and gently eased a book from where it was wedged. 

Carefully, he pried it open, so that it opened in the center. The pages were yellow with time, the script flowing in concise paragraphs. It almost smelled like...Gaius’s chambers. The smell of spellbooks, journals and tomes hit him like a gale of wind. The scent of herbs and terrible tasting concoctions had him still, eyes glazing over with each fond memory.

Until he was jerked abruptly out of it.

He started, arms crossing in front of him, unfortunately also dropping the book. Movement out of the corner of his eye had him turning to the right, towards the bent figure. The bent figure of Arthur-no. Not Arthur, Giuliano his name is now.

Giuliano had bent over to catch the dropped book, and was looking up at his startled figure with a lovely smile. Merlin’s heart caught in his throat, the sunlight illuminating the golden hair. Icy blue eyes…

“Hey,” Giuliano says, hesitant, and slowly bends back up. Now they were level, Kilgharrah off exploring. They were close, shoulders brushing. Their breaths mingled. It smelled like mint. 

Abruptly, Giuliano jerked back a step and thrust the book in Merlin’s face. He went cross-eyed at the closeness. Merlin grasped it with a breathy, “Thanks.”

Giuliano cleared his throat, eyes firm on the bookshelf. “Your welcome,” he replied, voice hoarse. The air went tense, awkward. A chortle was heard somewhere behind Merlin. 

Giuliano cleared his throat, again, shifted on his feet. To Merlin, it seemed he was working up the confidence to say something. Moments pass, and they just stare, breathing.

“You look well, Merlin,” Giuliano said, voice hoarse, head high and chest puffed, as if it would fill himself with confidence. Merlin nodded and swallowed, throat closing with a surely audible click.

“Thanks,” he said again. The dusty shelves tickled his nose. There was something on Giuliano’s face, it was unreadable. But before he could stare any further, Giuliano glanced over his shoulder, and his features twisted into annoyance. And before Merlin could ask,  _ ‘What’s wrong?’  _ Giuliano pushed past, storming towards the entrance.

Left feeling off-kilter, Merlin glance at the book cover. The title raised his eyebrow, but the author’s name stole his breath. Merlin shoved it back in the shelf, haphazard, and plopped in the nearest chair. 

He felt like screaming. His past life, all coming back at once, he was straining at the seams. Merlin certainly didn’t expect Geoffrey, of all people. The old librarian, famous beyond his days. Kilgharrah pounced into his lap, purring loud. He turned thrice, then settled into a ball.

Despite his shaking psyche, Merlin cracked a grateful smile. He settled further into the chair. Merlin breathed in deeply, and began the painful task of finally sifting through his repressed memories. His only regret, in this moment, was leaving the book on the shelf, collecting dust once again.

* * *

Giuliano stomped towards his brother, intent on asking just what he was planning. Arms clasped behind his back, he opened his mouth to shout. Lorenzo shushed him before he could utter his first cry.

Giuliano just stared at Lorenzo, trying fruitlessly to figure out what he was thinking, but Lorenzo just kept looking forward from where he was leaning against the door. Giuliano turned too, and found Merlin lounging in the only chair in sight, a cat curled on his lap. His head was perched on a fist that was perched on the arm. The sunlight caught his frame, and with the way he was sitting…

“It looks like he’s glowing,” Giuliano whispered, “like...his eyes are shining golden, and his hair is on fire.”

Lorenzo spared a glance at him, then turned back. Giuliano couldn’t see the fear on his face, but he felt it in the air. Giuliano didn’t understand why, he was too enraptured with Merlin’s eyes. His solemn expression made him want to clear it off, to replace it with a smile. Giuliano then realized he’d never seen those soft-looking lips curved in a smile.

A heavy hand on his shoulder startled him, and he half-turned back towards Lorenzo. Lorenzo, who was now staring, considerately, at Giuliano’s face. Lorenzo gestured for him to follow. He did, but not without glancing back once last time, and leaving Merlin to his silence.

Now in the hallway, Lorenzo looked like he wanted to talk. So Giuliano waited patiently for the lone servant bustling about behind them to leave. It was minutes before, according to hearing, the servant realized she should be gone, and with a peep she scurried off.

Fully out of earshot, Lorenzo cleared his throat, “We believe that the attack may have been an assassination attempt.”

Giuliano couldn’t believe it, “An assassi-you’re sure? Do you know who?” Giuliano felt restless, now. Arms clasped, then clenched and unclenched in front and behind. He rocked on his feet. Lorenzo seemed to be more composed of himself.

His brother shook his head, “We’re not sure. But,” he interjected when Giuliano began to protest, a finger held to his up, “currently, we are doing searches.” 

Giuliano felt light-headed with relief, and brought a hand, gloveless, to wipe at his forehead. The heat from a nearby torch suffocated him. “Have you-have you told mother, yet?”

Lorenzo, again, shook his head, weary, “Nor father. I will tomorrow, over breakfast.” 

Giuliano scoffed, “They’re just going to fight again.” He kicked at the stone, looking out the window, at the busy courtyard.

“Between you and me,” Lorenzo lowered his voice, leaning in, “I fear something terrible is going to happen.”

Giuliano nodded, exaggerated, and bit at his lips, “Me too, brother-mine.” They sighed, almost in unison, “Me too.”


End file.
